A New World: Chaos Page 3

  We start the drive back home, retracing my previous route. There is only the wind as it whips against the soft top of the Jeep and our minds are all working through the situation in which we find ourselves. Kind of numb and working furiously at the same time. In my peripheral, I see Robert looking around us at the total lack of people. Through the rear view, I see Bri doing the same thing while Nic is staring at her hands folded in her lap.

  “Dad?” Bri says from the back.

  “Yes, hon,” I say wondering what question is coming and worried about it at the same time. I am not sure where her mind has ventured but her question should ascertain that for me. Like I said, her mind is always working. So does Nicole’s and Robert’s but they are more silent and contemplative.

  “Was that Mom? I mean, in the house? Making that noise?”

  Sighing heavily, I answer, “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

  I pretty much know the answer given the fact that the front door was sealed and locked from the inside but I don’t know for sure. One of the windows upstairs did seem to have been broken, but honestly, my answer came more from a dad-protective place. Robert gives me a sideways glance from the passenger seat but says nothing.

  “Do you think she’ll be okay? I mean, will she get better do you think?” Her questions say that she already knows the possibility of who it was.

  “I don’t know, hon. I just don’t know.”

  “Should we go back and see if we can help her?”

  “No, Bri, I’m not sure what we could do.”

  A tear forms in her eye. She turns to the window once more as the tear slowly trails down her cheek. Silence once more descends as I drive along the mostly empty highway. My thought turns to Lynn hoping she is okay. I don’t think even the sands of Kuwait would be spared from the kind of pandemic we are looking at. I mean, the military ensures that its members get the vaccines first and, if memory serves me right, requires flu vaccines for everyone, so this must have erupted everywhere.

  We both enjoy zombie books and the genre in general. Well, she actually introduced me to it but I became taken with it. We would cover scenarios, stories, and ‘how-to’s’ in case such an event happened. Not seriously thinking anything would actually happen, just an amusement between us with what we would do. We were more interested in applying our survival skills than seriously thinking it could happen. We had both had to apply survival skills a lot in our military careers so that was a natural progression for us to take. We had an agreement in our stories that I would fly to pick her up. Now, I feel unsure as to what to do. What if she is okay and waiting? Should I follow through with what we talked about even though it was more play acting than reality? My heart is sick with worry as I truly love this woman.

  I stare out of the windshield at the sun shining on the trees, grass, and houses as we pass. Should I do what we agreed even though we were only telling a story? Is she is okay? Should I just focus on creating a safe environment here for my kids? I haven’t had any contact with Lynn for the past two days. She hasn’t been online and no phone calls either. I called and left a message but have not heard anything back. No great revelation comes. No light bulb suddenly flares in my mind. With the kids looking out of the windows, the trees just continue to pass, unaware of our situation and without a care to my quandary.

  Both thoughts and questions continue to rattle back and forth. The movie drive-in passes by on our left with “CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE” on the sign board. Oh, the fun times the kids and I had there on summer nights. Bri always wanting to watch from the back of the pickup and me wanting to be inside because I couldn’t hear the speakers very well. Her falling asleep during the second movie and me having to wake her when we arrived back home. Both her and Nic just appreciating our being together; loving the moment more than the event. Or the times where it was just Robert and I. Popcorn, drinks, and a multitude of snacks from the service station nearby. “300” on the screen in front and us proclaiming this was the best movie ever. Those times are over now and this is just one of the many changes that have occurred in this new world we find ourselves in.

  Turning off the highway towards home, my heart is light, because my kids are safely with me, but heavy with thoughts of Lynn. My stomach is in knots when a decision clicks into place. I have to find her. I have to go to Kuwait. The guilt and shame of not trying would be too much. I love Lynn and can’t, no won’t, do anything less. My decision is made, as if there were truly any other. My thoughts turn to the when and how.

  A Trip to the Store

  Pulling into the driveway, I turn off the engine, and we climb out of the Jeep. Carrying the shotgun, Robert gingerly steps across the gravel and walks toward my little cottage. Nic and Bri are right behind. Normally, my little Bri would be making a little noise about walking on the gravel barefoot, but neither an utterance nor word comes out.

  “No, we are going into Mom’s house,” I tell Robert and he switches direction in mid-stride to the front porch.

  The front door opens and Mom steps out onto the porch. “Thank goodness you are alright,” she says in a sigh-like voice and comes forward to give them all hugs.

  We walk into the house, a little darker now than when I left but the window shades are open giving a little light. “I see the power has gone out,” I mention as I walk through the kitchen that opens from the entry way.

  “Happened right after you left.”

  The kitchen opens into a sitting room ahead with a mostly glass door that lets in quite a bit of light and leads to a small deck outside. Her computer desk sits against a half wall to the left and ceiling-high bookcases fill the right wall. Turning left out of the kitchen, the living room is illuminated by only two windows set into the far wall along the right and is therefore a little dark. A wood stove sits in an alcove in the middle of the wall between the windows. Her white couch sits against the half wall and two reclining chairs rest on the other side of her large, Persian-style rug.

  “Set the shotgun there,” I tell Robert pointing to the corner of the desk. “I’ll be right back.”

  I head out to the cottage sitting in a small copse of cedar and firs where I am staying to get some clothes and shoes for the kids. A single room with my bed, two couches, a large screen TV for movies and the Xbox, a small kitchen, two closets and a small bathroom with a shower. It’s small but it suits me and I like it. The sound of the birds chirping away in the trees fills the air around me but I pay little attention to them as my mind goes through various aspects of the venture I am about to set in motion. Items I will need to take; food, water, warm clothes, weapons, and first aid. The absence of weather reports, maps I will need, going on the assumption of no navigational aids, my route, the hope that GPS still works, what will I face, contact, fuel stops, oh, and yeah, the fact that I will have to learn to fly a different aircraft. Hopefully I’ll be able to find a checklist and manuals on board.

  I gather what I need. Jeans for Bri, and shirt, jacket, socks, and the specially-ordered converse shoes I gave her for Christmas. The same for Nic. Socks and the boots I bought for Robert for our hiking trips up the creek to the falls. We can still do that I guess, I think briefly piling their stuff in my arms. Or maybe not. I have no idea what the future may hold or what the world around me looks like. Outside, the early afternoon sun greets me as if nothing has changed.

  Coming back into Mom’s house, I hand the various articles to Robert, Nicole, and Brianna. Bri takes her clothes and disappears into the bathroom, Nic into one of the bedrooms.

  “Thanks,” Robert says and leans forward, stretches the thick, white socks over his feet and puts on his boots.

  I walk into the laundry room by the front door. Mom has cases of bottled water stacked there. We live in the country and loss of power is no stranger so she stockpiles water. I pull several bottles out and head back, hand them out, and plop into the other chair beside Robert. Nic and Bri come out. I hand them water and they sit next to Mom on the couch.

  Silence fi
lls the room as we are all wrapped in our own thoughts. I have a vague idea of my route, plan, and items I need. My quandary is about the kids. Half of me wants to bring them; have them in sight and therefore safe; not wanting to leave them. The other half says to leave them here and not bring them into an unknown and potentially dangerous situation. Not only the danger of what awaits out in the world, but of the unknown aspects of my now-planned flight. Fuel, engine malfunctions, my not being familiar with the type of aircraft I plan to take, weather, all of these things and those I am sure I am not thinking of.

  My basic plan runs along these lines. I will need an aircraft capable of long-range flight meaning some form of transport aircraft. My preference is military as that is the type I am used to, has the radio gear I will most likely need when I get there, is a little more reliably maintained, and has cargo capacity in case I want or need it. Plus, being geared for combat scenarios, they are a little more structurally sound and have better short and soft field takeoff and landing capabilities. The only drawback is their need for JP-4 fuel which then requires the need for military fields for refueling. Normal civilian turbine-powered aircraft can use Jet-A fuel which can be found at any airfield.

  The thought of using a long-range business jet crosses my mind. They have a longer range than military transports, are faster, and have a higher ceiling meaning I can climb over weather should the need arise. Why am I not taking one? I ask yet again before the unknown elements come back into mind. I may not have the luxury of a long runway and may have to set down in some unimproved area. Much better to have the flexibility and capabilities that military transports afford.

  Back to the basic plan. McChord AFB is primarily a transport base flying the C-17’s. I am not exactly sure of the range but I believe it to be around 3,000 nautical miles. That should be sufficient for what I need. Head over to the east coast and land at a military base to refuel. From there to the Azores for another refueling stop. I may not be able to make the jump from there all of the way to the desert as that would be pushing the range. Possibly a stop in Italy. That will depend on the range from the charts I hope to find. Make my calls on guard - the emergency frequency - along the way to see if anyone is still about and then call about 100 miles out from Kuwait.

  No, this was not all thought out in the scant moments of the drive back to the house nor from the walk from my place back to mom’s. In our scenario talks, Lynn and I had covered a lot of these aspects about linking up. I would be calling on guard and our positions relayed. She mentioned she needed to find a radio specialist to have along. One assumption we had was that she would not be in a base but on the move. I told her I needed some firm ground to land but not a lot of it. We actually covered wingtip clearances, the need for level ground clear of obstructions and such. Thus, my desire for the military transport capabilities.

  There are several assumptions I have to work with and, without them being true, they could throw a serious flaw in my planning. The first is that the military is no longer a viable force nor hunkered down in their bases. They are not just going to let me cruise on in and borrow one of their aircraft. I am pretty sure they would frown mightily over that. One other is, whatever transformations these things have gone through, that they do not like the light. This was somewhat and only vaguely verified when I was getting the kids. I am pretty sure that whatever was in there would have had no qualms about coming down and introducing itself if it were not for the light. If this is indeed true, then that will give me time and space to refuel although I will have to plan the legs of the flight in order to land and refuel in the daylight. I won’t be able to fly all of the way over in one day or in one continuous series as we will have to rest some. I mean, I think it is almost 8,000 miles there. That is close to sixteen hours of flying assuming an airspeed of 500 knots. So, I figure two days of flying to get there. During our discussions, we mentioned three or four days to get there so she would have to hold out for at least that long.

  “I got a text from Michelle,” Robert says breaking the silence of the room.

  “What?” I ask, my mind coming back to the present and look over at Robert. “When?”

  “This morning before you arrived,” he responds leaning forward with his head down. All eyes in the room focus on him.

  “Where is she?” I ask.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t you ask her?”

  “I didn’t text her back.”

  Confused, I ask him why not. He raises his head and looks over at me. “Because my phone makes noise when I press the buttons regardless of what my phone is set on.”

  Michelle and Robert have only recently become an item. His first real girlfriend. He has had several dates before but nothing like this and I can tell he is truly worried about her. “Well, what about trying now?”

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. There are several moments of alternating between texting and reading. Apparently, she is still around or he is texting himself.

  “Well?” I inquire. “This day and time is already suspenseful and tense enough without you adding to it. Is she ok? Where is she?”

  “She’s at home.”

  “Where exactly is home?” My mind floats over the next twenty three questions I want to ask and things I want to know.

  “Olympia. By CapitalHigh School. Over by where you used to live.”

  “Is anyone else there with her? Her parents? Where are they?” Bringing the number of questions on my mind down to twenty two. Yes, that was only one question.

  “I don’t know,” he says turning his attention back to his cell, fingers speedily working their way across the buttons.

  “Robert,” I say to get his attention. Yeah, that didn’t work. His mind is focused on the next letters in his text. “Robert!” I say a little louder. He looks over at me in mid text. “Ask her if she can talk and just call her.”

  His fingers start hammering out yet again on the keys. I look over at the girls and Mom. Bri has rested her head against my mom’s shoulder with mom’s arm around her. Nicole is sitting with her hands in her lap watching Robert. I can tell Michelle’s response by Robert’s action as he stands up and starts to walk over to the kitchen area punching buttons and bringing his phone to his ear. Some things must just be genetically coded. He likes privacy when talking on the phone just like me. It doesn’t matter who it happens to be, both he and I will walk away to be alone to talk on the phone. Not really sure why, it just is.

  He walks over to the back door looking out of the windows. I see his lips moving as he starts speaking into the phone. No words reach my ears but that is not uncommon. My hearing has declined from years of jet engine noise in the Air Force. We wore ear plugs while in the jet, but not on the ramp and, at any one time, there were many aircraft with their engines either starting up or already running. The cumulative effect has been an overall hearing loss. Others refer to it as selective hearing but I beg to differ otherwise.

  I walk over to Robert and stop a few feet behind. “What is she saying?” I ask trying to get my number of questions down into at least the single digits.

  “She’s alone in the house,” he replies covering the microphone end with his hand.

  “Where are her parents?”

  “She doesn’t know.”

  “Okay. Tell here we’ll be there within the hour to pick her up.”

  A flash of relief passes through his eyes as he relays this back to her. I can tell he is about to end the conversation and hang up. “Wait,” I say.

  “Tell her to gather up some changes of clothes, some warm stuff like coats and sweatshirts, shoes, a sleeping bag if she has one, and whatever toiletries she thinks she needs. Oh, and tell her we’ll call just prior to getting there.”

  He relays this before closing the cell phone and heads toward the back door. I know he thinks we are leaving right then and now to get Michelle.

  “Wait one,” I say. “I want to talk about something first.” A quick look of
annoyance and frustration crosses his features as he turns to look at me. Another genetic aspect I guess.

  Robert walks back to his chair and sits down, leaning over with his elbows on his knees. I sit beside him in a similar fashion. I look over at Nic, Bri and mom, water bottle in my hand, and tell them, “I’m going to get Lynn. Or at least try.”

  Through my peripheral, I see Robert raise an eyebrow and look sideways at me. “I’m going with,” he says like there is no other possibility. “Isn’t she in Kuwait though?”

  “Yeah, she is. We’ll have to fly over.”

  “Dad,” Bri says, the first sounds uttered by her since asking about her mom, “you can’t go without me.”

  “Nor me,” Nic chimes in.

  I realize they don’t know where their mom is, where the rest of their family is, with the exclusion of my mom, nor their friends. I am the only one left to them. It is at this moment I understand and see that my kids are coming with me.

  “Mom?” I ask with the rest of the question left unsaid.

  “I think I’m staying here,” she responds understanding the unasked question and not attempting to talk me out of my decision nor reason that the kids should stay as well. She fully understands this is something I have to do and that I want my kids with me.

  “I can’t very well leave you here alone.”

  “I am not without my own resources and abilities,” she responds back.

  “Okay, we’re leaving in the morning and may be gone for up to ten days. I’m not sure we will be able to maintain contact. Robert, let’s go get Michelle.”

  Robert heads toward the door again. I start to follow him but turn quickly back to mom and the girls on the couch, “You should probably grab blankets and nails while we’re gone. We should think about covering up the windows at the very least. Maybe bring those pallets up from the shed so we can put some form of barricade up on the windows.”